To the day Heroes can Die
by Regent Septimus
Summary: Heroes; something that Humanity has always craved, both for the stories and for their actions. But they have not always been present. Overwatch brought forth these individuals, tearing them from the normality of society and placing them upon pedestals as immortal defenders of the people. But perhaps there is a weight to heroism, too few shoulders carrying a burden intended for all.


"A-and then BOOM!" The giant gentleman flurried his large hands about, a wide and excited grin on his face as he recounted another of his epic tales to his Goddaughter "Your papa cried like a baby, but I: Reinhardt Wilhelm stood steadfast and strong, meting justice in his stead with my hammer aloft, whilst keeping the crybaby safe simultaneously with my barrier shield." He pumped his fists and kicked his feet, as gleeful as the child before him, staring starry eyed and awed at his-

"Exaggerated tall tale." The dwarfish Lindholm did not look nearly as impressed as his starstruck daughter and humoured wife, stifling a giggle behind a dainty hand. "May I remind you that the help of my turrets is what kept us all alive, as well as the armour pack that saved the rest of my body from harm." He curled his meaty fingers around his prosthetic bicep, not solemn over the tale of his lost limb, but seemingly proud of his own invention, even better than the original if it weren't for the cold, hardness of the metal. "Not to mention the fact that I tailor made every spec of that hammer you 'held aloft' so courageously whilst keeping your old friend alive from his mortal wound." His reminder was dry and without humour, Reinhardt's' lips twitching for a moment, his grin almost faltering even as he awkwardly kept it strong just for the adorable little Brigitte still gazing up at her idol.

A snort broke through the silence, "And then you badgered me until I let you name my daughter; be sure to thank 'uncle' Wilhelm for practically hijacking your Godfatherhood Brigitte." He spoke in jest, lips curled fondly even as said daughter did as she was told, not catching on to the sarcasm she had yet to understand.

There were laughs and smiles all around the Lindholm household, and Reinhardt watched his Goddaughter with loving eyes. An 'uncle' should never choose favourites, for as much as he loved all of his old friends' children; Brigitte would of course be his favourite.

He reached his hand out and gently pet her, to which she giggled loudly, her head practically dwarfed under his palm even as she began to wriggle about happily under his scrutiny.

"You'll grow up to be a hero like your father, little Brigitte." He wasn't prepared for her response:

"But can I be one like you?"

He'd never forget the fluttering of his heart at the sight of those determined eyes.

...

"Of course."

* * *

"Aaaaand knockout!" The bell run thrice and the match was over.

"Cindy Vorn continues to fight undefeated!" The crowds cheered for the semi-professional fighter, the unconscious opponent carried out by her coach and an attendee in the meantime.

Cindy Vorn was an up and coming MMA challenger. There were many that tried to do what she did, but none had been able to pull it off with the degree of skill that she could. For a woman, she was tall, and reasonably - but not excessively, built, sitting in the Welterweight class and still without peer in the amateur and semiprofessional leagues.

"Is there anybody who can tear her from her throne?!"

"I can." The words weren't shouted, but declared with no lack of confidence, silencing the room. Amongst the seated crowd, now stood a tall, imposing brunette. Her brown eyes were fiery with determination, and her every footfall towards the ring echoed throughout the area with a sense of purpose. Of power.

"You ca-?"

"I can." Cindy didn't seem to appreciate being cut off so easily "Yes." Nor did she appreciate the belittling, did this girl not see her thrash her last opponent?

The commentator cleared his throat to remind everybody of his presence. "Sorry Missy, but you are?" He recoiled from her suddenly whirling on him, breaking her size-up with Cindy.

"My name is Brigitte, and I seek to improve myself."

The commentator blinked and turned to his superior numbly, grinning once he received a thumbs up for his efforts. "Well come on in and give it a whirl! But just in case of injury we'll just need you to sign some documents and-" the young Lindholm stepped past him and into the ring, shrugging her overcoat off before she did and leaving her boots messily by the stairs.

He cleared his throat, "Um, I said-"

"I heard you, I won't need them." Her words were said with finality, and it took a few instances for the man to build up the courage to ask again, just to retreat into himself once again at her stare.

"G-got it."

Cindy scoffed from the opposite side of the ring, dressed in sports gear and with her hair cut short just to avoid the complications of it getting in the way. "You're hardly dressed the part." She sneered, sizing the Swedish girl up and down, paying close attention to the bulge of her arm muscles; from the noticeable size of her idle biceps and triceps to the edge of what little pectoral was visible at the edge of her tank top.

Cindy acted tough and she wouldn't say she was quite intimidated exactly, but this girl could probably turn her into a pretzel if given half a chance.

The barefoot Swede just rolled her eyes and began to hop from one foot to another, stretching her arms out and about as she did. "Joggers are comfortable, and I think they're form-fitting enough to not be any sort of violation." She commented easily, her outfit not the least bit feminine, though it was still obvious that despite her powerful form and the clothes she wore, she was still a beautiful young woman.

In fact, everything about her made Cindy mad.

"Get your gloves on so we can start this already dyke."

The commentator feigned ignorance to the room's temperature plummeting at that comment and instead began the countdown.

"3"

"2"

"1"

And just like that, Cindy flew across the ring, starting with a swift kick to her opponents thigh, a left hook to her ribs and then a straight right into her-

hand?

Cindy flew back across the ring, eyes spinning and swiftly finding unconsciousness.

Her last thoughts were that those initial hits of her's had been reminiscent of taking on a brick wall, only to find out that there was also a cannon directed right into her face.

Brigitte sighed as she stared at her blooded fist, not really a fan of how... cruel it made her feel to knock people around like that.

Reinhardt and papa always said that she was destined to live on a pedestal the way they had, her Godfather being even more insistent that the path of a hero was now hers to embark on, and that she just wasn't like normal people.

But still, it was difficult to get stronger when literally every opponent crumbled like a house of cards on the first strike. Even the hits she had allowed past her guard had numbed to nothing already. She wasn't immortal: the hits stung, the girl was clearly skilled and it showed in her previous match.

But against Brigitte, a debilitating strike became a childish game of dead-arm; only instead of a child, Brigitte was more akin to a suit of armour.

Was it arrogant to think so?

A glance at her 'opponent' removed that thought process posthaste.

She was reminded of her Godfather's words as a child, when she had wondered just whether she could become a hero like him. Was this the price of being a hero? Life exempt from other 'mere' mortals?

She scoffed dryly as she exited the arena.

"Of course."

* * *

Reinhardt groaned lightly as he deposited himself back into a particularly comfortable chair, his hand lightly rubbing the lower half of his back, once again under the agony of the aches and pains that came from age.

Of course, that was only exacerbated by the fact that unlike most people his age, he was also a constant superhuman knight, always bringing the fight to the enemy for the sake of justice. He chuckled to himself over the thought of just how many older gentlemen like himself could swing around a hammer like his.

"Hammer down indeed."

The door opened just as he lifted his feet onto the footrest delicately, the fireplace still coming to life as it gnawed at the firewood he had chopped for it earlier. It was rare that Reinhardt managed to find such comfortable lodging such as this amidst their travels but it so happened that the contacts he had made over the years through his acts of heroism, as well as the favour won over with Overwatch sympathizers despite their status as 'vigilantes' in the modern day, came through for him in such small luxuries here and there. Now he found himself in a small - or rather, cosy lodge a small ways into the Swiss forest. This luxury was available thanks to the actions of the young woman now before him; a favour for a man in need of her engineering prowess resulting in a favour in return.

He liked it here.

He didn't like that Brigitte was wearing _that_ face again. Of course he knew what that meant exactly.

"Brigitte." His rumbling voice was notoriously powerful, often referred to as a lions roar in the midst of combat. Even now it demanded attention, spoken softly but with meaning. The singular word demanded explanation, and there was no escaping it.

The Ironclad woman's eyes surveyed every little detail of the room sheepishly before eventually finding his lone, piercing eye, her hastily put together alibi falling apart at the lion's gaze.

She tried to come up with something, mouth hanging open for what seemed like an eternity, but was in actuality no more than 5 seconds, finding nothing but shame for even attempting to lie to her very idol. "I've been fighting again Godfather." She said the words knowing he would be disappointed, but she put on her bravest face while doing so, giving him the respect he has earned throughout his many decades of life by never breaking eye contact.

Admirable indeed, he commended.

The eyelock lasted a short while, the elder gentlemen wondering just where to start with this before relenting with a sigh, shaking his head.

"We've been over this Brigitte." His eye found hers again, and though she expected to see tiredness in it, she only found a caring warmth that reminded just who she was speaking to again. Rather, not who, but _what_ he was.

He was Reinhardt Wilhelm; the golden-hearted lion of a man, and he would never grow tired of her or anybody else he truly cared about.

"Normal people just aren't quite like us." His tone was soft, trying to get his point across since it hadn't the last time, nor the time before that. And he just hoped she cared enough to listen, "It isn't arrogance or anything like that to think so, it's cold, hard fact. I don't want to make us seem like we're... inhuman, or that they're less than us, but there are paths people take in this world." He put his hands on the arms of his chair and pushed himself forward, halfway standing to show his stance on what he was telling her "And we chose ours so that they never have to. So I beg of you Brigitte; don't bring them into it, our path is not theirs to shoulder." He looked solemn for a moment, looking over his life and its evolution with every passing decision: his decision to take up the mantle of a Crusader, the loss of his mentor: Balderich and the heavy realisation that his life was from that moment for the people as their shield, his integration into Overwatch and the many battles against the Omnics during the Crisis.

He had friends, and he had loved ones, but he had never found himself worthy of finding a woman to love, not truly. In his youth he had fancied himself some sort of Golden Knight and a ladies man as a result, but Eichenwalde changed him, reminded him of his humanity when he saw his very idol give up his life for somebody as unworthy of it as him. He hoped he was worthy of it now, but he could never be so sure with that weight resting on his shoulders.

Ana had found a man and had given birth to little Fareeha, and oh how they had adored her back in the Overwatch days. Torbjorn had Ingrid and together they had sired a litter of children, both having become grandparents in their more recent years. Lena had even found love despite her horrendous origins at the hands of the Slipstream malfunction, finding solace in the love of her partner Emily. He was happy for all of them, and deep down he knows he wished he could have shared in their happiness, just as he wished that Liao, Gerard, James and Angela could have, not to mention the many other comrades he had called his brothers in arms.

But this world was not a kind one. Most of Blackwatch's members suffering from the cruelties of it more than most, not to mention whatever it was that became of Gabriel.

But these weren't the tales he so enjoyed recounting. He would never forget any of what molded him into the 'hero' he was today, but it was his duty to spread cheer and justice.

And now wasn't the time to lament. He now stood tall, taller than Brigitte despite her own impressive height. The man was a giant, and it become more known with every step he took towards her. "We have a duty, and as my Squire I have trained you. You have become a remarkable woman Brigitte." He fondly curled his fingers against her cheek and she leant into his touch, the familial love shining in her eyes just as it would have for the man that she lovingly called 'papa'. "But neither you nor I will ever truly be perfect." She closed her eyes and exhaled softly.

"I know Reinhardt. I know." She thought back on her childish actions; the lengths she had tried to go to in order to distract her Godfather from answering to Winston's recall message, realising how selfish of her it was to try to wrap him up in cotton wool. He was the truest definition of a hero, and she just maintained his armour and patched him up.

She recalled her own dispassion towards the Omnic race, diminished but never completely gone for what they had done. Perhaps it was partially due to her Father's own feelings towards them but even he had managed to put them aside from time to time, having done so for that malfunctioning Bastion unit some time ago. but could they ever be truly forgiven? A machine forged for war and death alone? Her fists tightened until her knuckles turned white, and she launched herself into her Godfather's embrace, arms wrapped around one another as she let the chinks in her armour become more apparent now that she felt safe.

The pedestal lowered as she was reminded that she was human after all, just having taken a path better less traveled.

She felt weak as she released another sob, but that was alright, for now she was with her family, not all of it. but this was enough for now.

She choked out a chuckle through the tears as she imagined just what her papa would be saying right now, acting tough as he always did but subtly falling apart at not knowing what to do when his children were upset, flustered and lingering on the sidelines but within reach as mama took over with what she did best.

"I need help Reinhardt." She whispered into his chest.

He only tightened his hold on her and muttered into her auburn locks: "You already have it my dear."

* * *

 **So this is another story I was gonna have on the side. I have a plan for it and all and this is how it was gonna work okay?**

 **So, don't be distracted by the fact that this entirely revolved around Reinhardt and Brigitte, because it isn't going to only be about them. It was instead gonna be snippets about numerous heroes, some maybe lasting for more than one chapter, all released weekly, hopefully continuing if the story goes well.**

 **And with every story end I'm gonna ask for your guys opinion on who the next story would be about, even a preference for genre if you wish.**

 **So now I'll ask you to: SELECT YOUR HERO.**

 **And you go from there!**

 **I hope you enjoyed my story here, I'm trying to start writing more frequently, both me and my friend CaesarNova, check him out if you feel like looking up a guy who actually has a degree pertaining to this sort of thing aha!**

 **Favourite, Follow or Review if you liked it, I wanna hear about anything you feel I need to hear, I'm not some deadbeat who denies anything like criticism because I'm realistic and know I can do better. I just want to hear how through the consumer - you.**

 **Well that's my part anyway, so... yeah I hope you liked it and stay tuned for more coming next week! don't forget to vote!**

 **Au Revoir for now Readers! ^^**


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